The Road to Landown in Baird's Eye View
by YourLovelyMajesty
Summary: Set during GoW2. Baird narrates a portion of his and Cole's trip to Landown. One-shot. T for language.


Our rig—the conscript called it Marilyn as if it was his wife or something—crawled along the mountain path toward Landown. It plowed through the rough underbrush and uprooted the trees as if they didn't exist. Despite the crazy ex-Stranded piloting the thing, I'd say the Assault Derricks were impressive machines. In fact, I would have loved nothing more than to dive inside one and poke around. The things were massive; I wanted to know what made them run. Unfortunately the COG gave most of them to conscripts, which meant more civilians—_real_ COG civvies—were put on the frontlines. I still believed the army should kill the traitorous Stranded, but I wasn't Chairman, so whatever.

Cole stood beside me on the deck. He leaned against the safety rail and smiled at the passing scenery, sucking in a lungful of mountain air. "Man, look at all this. I'm glad Command sent us the long way. Look at all them mountains—and the trees! I forgot these things still exist."

I glanced over at the mountains. Now that he mentioned it, it did seem like our world was getting smaller every day. How much longer until we were fighting out here? How much longer until we blew up those mountains? It was sad just thinking about it.

"Yeah, sure," I replied quickly. "Real majestic and shit."

"Aw come on, Baird, you know it looks pretty."

"Paint a picture or something. I don't really care for scenery unless I'm in the middle of a firefight, or anywhere I have the possibility of dying. Speaking of, this ride sucks. No peanuts, no service at all, in fact—oh, and do you realize that as soon as we pull into Landown we're going underground? And this isn't the Outer Hollow they want us to inspect. No, we don't get all the rainbows and butterflies of the Outer Hollow. What the hell do they expect us to find inside the Inner Hollow? Unicorns? God, we're dead men walking."

Cole must have been expecting something like this from me. He laughed it off and slapped me on the back. "I'm scared too, but we finally have the chance to take the game to the Locust home turf. Wouldn't miss this chance for anything else—we can knock 'em flat on their asses before they realize what's going on! And hey, I never had the chance to play in an underground arena. Don't know about you, man, but I'm pumped."

There he went again. Cole always found a way to relate _anything_ to Thrashball. Sometimes I hated it; most of the time I _really_ hated it. Other times, I recognized it for what it was: fear. The more I felt afraid, the more I talked. I had to bitch about something or else I couldn't concentrate; some guys didn't understand that, but Cole knew and I knew him too. The more he talked about Thrashball, the more fear he felt.

"We might not get there alive if this thing flips over," I said as the rig bulldozed another tree, threatening to tip over in the process. I grabbed the rail with one hand and used the other to touch my earpiece, opening the radio channel. "Are you trying to deforest the area or kill us? That one nearly flipped the rig."

"Don't you worry, crybaby," the Stranded conscript replied. His hick accent was thick in my ear and I shuddered in disgust. "Marilyn is built like a bomb shelter—stronger than thirty Centaurs! And I wouldn't dream of anything happening to my 'precious' cargo. I got orders to put you boys underground and that's what I'm gonna do." He chuckled darkly and I quickly switched my radio back to receive only.

In my opinion, Stranded are Stranded. Conscript or not, they betrayed their nation and still had the balls to complain when we gunned them down. I would never understand the hive mind of Stranded camps; I spent more time in one than I wanted thanks to Marcus. Never again. I couldn't bare being around academically challenged minds like theirs. Could they even name the Allfathers? What about two plus two, could they decipher that? From what I saw in Franklin's Outpost, it was like watching humans devolve. I'd rather stay in civilization, thanks.

The rig's front left wheel dipped sharply, jolting the entire machine. I tightened my grip on the safety rail and prayed we didn't have a flat tire. That was the _last_ thing we needed. As Cole glanced at me, I noticed he was starting to look sick—all of this rocking probably wasn't helping him. For being a big guy, he had a surprisingly weak stomach.

"I'm not bothering again. You talk to the piece of—"

The radio interrupted me and the Stranded's furious voice yelled in my ear. "Uh, gentlemen, if you would look over to your left, you might notice some pretty mountains and trees, a nice sunset—oh, and a bunch of ugly bastards trying to molest my girl! Wanna get off your asses and do something?"

Cole pressed his radio as I crossed to the left side. "What's the problem, my man?" he asked cheerfully. Even when he was about to lose his guts, Cole was always a people person. "Some stragglers we gotta deal with?"

I peered over the edge and felt my jaw drop in horror. There were hundreds—maybe thousands—of Locust crawling out of the ground. No, they were waltzing onto the surface as if they owned it. "Cole. Cole, get over here!"

He jogged to my side and gripped the railing. He was quiet as he took in the scene. I still didn't understand what I was seeing. The grass had been burned away, the ground was charred and tunnels—no, trenches—had been built from underground.

Cole pulled his Lancer from his back. "Damn," he breathed. "Do we waste the ammo on them or crush 'em with Marilyn?"

"You better start shooting something!" the Stranded yelled. "Those things have hooks—grappling hooks!"

"What?" I leaned over the side, squinting in the afternoon sun. The Locust weren't firing yet, I wasn't sure they noticed we were riding on the derrick, but I saw them. Definitely grappling hooks. "Shit. They knew we were coming, but what could they want with an Assault Derrick?"

"Maybe they knew normal guns wouldn't work against the armor?" Cole suggested. "So they think they'll just crawl on top of this nice lady and take her away."

There was a roar in the distance as something huge exploded. There was nothing big enough around here to make that kind of noise; it had to be another rig. "Oh _shit._ They really knew what they were doing. Did you hear that?"

"Brumak," he said gravely. "How did they know we were coming this way?"

"Who cares. We have more important things to worry about right now—like how to defend the rig so _we_ stay alive to see Landown. There's two of us and thousands of them. Got anything to bet?"

"Don't worry, Baird, we got this. We just gotta be faster than them. Can't let anyone hurt the nice man's lady here."

I rolled my eyes as I checked my rifle's ammo. "It's a piece of machinery, not a woman."

"Hey, my momma raised me to be a gentleman, and Marilyn's been nice to get us to Landown. There's no need to be rude and insult her."

"Oh god, stop talking. Please."

Something clanged behind us. I turned, Lancer raised, to find a grappling hook stuck on the railing. Well, they certainly weren't wasting any time.

Cole whooped as if he was back on the field and charged across the deck. "Yeah! Show time, baby!"

With a sigh, I did as I always did: I followed my overly optimistic friend to my death.


End file.
